


Marked

by Simonspeaking



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Daily Prophet, Dark Mark, Death Eaters, Harry thinks he's evil but hes actually not, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Hurt Harry Potter, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 09:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15385587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simonspeaking/pseuds/Simonspeaking
Summary: During a battle against Death Eaters in Harry’s Sixth year he gets knocked unconscious. When he awakes, he finds out he was branded with the Dark Mark.Or: When Harry’s life falls apart, he realizes that happiness can be found in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my third ever drarry fic! I've been toying with this idea for quite sometime and finally decided to give it a go. I'm excited to see where this story heads and I hope you join me along for the ride. If you have any questions about the fic or updates, you can reach me on my tumblr @simonspeaking. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments (they make my day)!
> 
> Enjoy the story, and thanks for reading :)

As consciousness ran it’s gentle fingers over his body, for a brief moment everything was still. The light hit his eyelids soft and warm, and the wind whistled through an open window. For just one second all was calm. For just one second all was good. 

That’s when the cruel scent of antibacterial soap and cleaning potions drilled their way into Harry’s nostrils. He cringed at the harsh aroma. Blinking open his eyes blearily, he confirmed the worst of his suspicions. Impossibly white walls, crinkled paper sheets, heavy curtains draped to separate him from the rest of the room. He was in the hospital wing. Again. 

Harry took a deep breath and tried to recount the events of the previous day. As memories blinked into place, like the stars in the sky, he felt the pain in his limbs return. A dull thudding in his kneecap where Avery had hexed him. The tell tale whooshing in his ears of a recently ended bought with the cruciatus curse. A bloody gash across his chest where Lucius had grazed him with a jinxed dagger. There were other pains too. Ones Harry couldn't recall. Like the stinging on his bandaged forearm, or the deep welts lining the length of his shin. 

The battle had been gruesome. Deadly and chaotic on both ends. Everytime he blinked he saw flashes of the night sky, drenched red with blood, the ground slick under his feet. He saw the corpses scattered on the ground like confetti after a parade. The screams still echoed in his ears. It was horrible, but the battle had to be fought. Death Eaters had been found skirting along the edges of the forbidden forest, hidden just beyond the natural protection that Hogwarts provided. Rumors had been circulating amongst his fellow sixth years for some time, but when a centaur corpse was found on school grounds, the worst of their fears were confirmed. Students and Auorors alike had dutifully protected the grounds, and Harry fought right there alongside them. He fought tooth and nail to protect his school. To protect his home. 

The memories started to go fuzzy soon after though. His recollection failing him when he tried to picture how the battle ended, if they prevailed victorious. His brain sparked and fizzed until eventually his memories melted into nothingness. The last memory he had, being a shout from Ron, and pain in his head. A pain in his head that angrily pulsed, as if it were upset at Harry for ignoring it this long. 

He reached up to rub his temples, however a dainty pale hand shot out to stop him. Harry jumped, startled by the sudden appearance of the limb before him. Glancing up he noted that it belonged to the one and only Madam Pomfrey, who was gazing at him quite intently. Harry couldn’t quite place what the look in her eyes was, within those warm brown eyes lay concern, yes, and also annoyance. But what was truly unexpected were the tiny twinges of sympathy Harry detected hidden in her irises. Harry had long since gotten use to sympathetic looks, he’d become an expert on identifying the lingering pity with which people looked at him. But Madam Pomfrey had never looked at him that way. It was something Harry liked about her, the way she got annoyed and angry at him. It made him feel almost normal, not like the tragic teenage hero that everyone saw him as. He felt an uneasy pang in his heart at this out-of-character reaction from her. 

“Careful there, Mr. Potter, your arms are not properly healed yet. If your head is bothering you I can give you a potion. All you needed to do was ask.” She spoke out meticulously cool, her voice not betraying the emotion deep set within her eyes. 

Harry cleared his throat, embarrassed, and set his arms back down at his sides, wincing upon noticing how the singing in his left arm intensified with motion. 

“ ‘m sorry.” Harry murmed out in response, frowning at the sluggish quality of his voice. 

“It’s all right dear, just try not to hurt yourself anymore. Heaven knows you’ve spent enough time in here-”

Harry couldn’t help but snort in agreement.

“Now, would you like some more potion for your pain?” She asked him.

Harry nodded stiffly, resisting the urge to rub at his head where the tension was thickest. 

“Very well. I’ll be back in a few minutes. In the meantime you have two visitors, I’ll let them in to see you now that you’re awake. They haven’t left my door once since you arrived, insisting I let them see you.” A small sad smile formed on Madam Pomfrey's lip, “They’re good friends Harry. You’ll need them.” 

Harry was slightly startled by the sudden compassion she was showing him. The crypticness of it was almost creepy. He was so unnerved he almost forgot to ask the question plaguing the back of his mind. Almost.

“Wait, Madam Pomfrey, what happened? Like with the battle?” he asked.

Madam Pomfrey’s back stiffened suddenly, the uncomfort she exuded was almost tangible. 

“I’ll let your friends explain.” She said firmly, and promptly left, swishing the curtain open to reveal a very disgruntled looking Ron and Hermione. 

They stood there for a second, taking in the appearance of their battered friend, before Hermione broke the stillness and ran forward, flinging her arms around harry in a bone crushing hug. Harry flinched as the pian flared up, unhappy with the newfound aggravation. 

“Hermione, lay off, you’re hurting him.” Ron’s voice rang out, an awkward and unsure sound. 

Hermione let go of him at once, and his limbs sighed with relief. 

“Sorry,” She said quickly, “I’m just so glad you’re ok. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

“Don’t worry,” Harry told her with a laugh, “I’ve been through worse.” 

“That’s true.” Ron pointed out and Harry shot him a grateful grin.

Ron smiled back, but it wasn’t full of the usual mirth he always radiated. The smile hurt Harry’s heart. He could see the way the corners were being tugged down by the imposing weight of gravity, how the wrinkles on his face betrayed that amount of effort it took to masquerade his happiness. It was a sympathy smile. A pity smile. God, Harry was going to punch the next person that looked at him like that. 

‘Calm down.’ he reminded himself, ‘Ron is your friend, he’s just worried about you.’

“It’s so great to have you both here, I’m glad you’re ok.” Harry told them. Pushing away his anger and letting his heart go warm again. His friends were here in front of him alive, and relatively unmarred from a battle that had wounded many. 

“It’s good to see you too, Harry.” Hermione told him, grabbing his uninjured hand supportively. 

“Yeah, we’ll always be here for you mate.” Ron interjected. Harry noticed how Ron hadn’t moved closer, like Hermione. He still stood behind where the curtain had been, a few feet away from the bed where Harry was lying. 

“Is everything all right Ron?” Harry asked, concern treacherously infiltrating his voice. 

Hermione’s head whipped around, her wild curls flying through the air, and though Harry couldn’t see her face, he knew she was glaring at Ron. 

“Ron,” she demanded, voice low and stern, “come say hello to Harry.” 

Ron hesitated, emotions that Harry couldn’t distinguish flashed across his face, before finally he shoved his hands in his pockets and took a rocky step forward. 

Harry could feel the unease growing in his stomach. What was once butterflies was rapidly turning into something more sinister. He tried to expel the negativity, tried to chalk Ron’s behavior up to shock from the battle. But the darkness still tinged the edges of his mind. Harry had to find out what had happened last night. 

“What happened?” Harry asked, almost ashamed of how apparent the need in his voice was. 

Hermione swallowed showily, and Ron turned a shade paler (if that was even possible). 

“Well besides your head and knee there was a slight encounter with-” Hermione started.

“Bellatrix Lestrange wanted to get some revenge, you know? So-” Ron tried to explain.

“No. no.” Harry cut them off. “I’m injured, I figured that one out myself, what happened with the battle? Did we win?”

Hermione shifted her weight, and Ron looked off to the side.

“Yes.” Ron answered simply. 

Harry felt himself sag back into the cot in relief. 

“So the Death Eaters in the Forbidden Forest are gone?”

“For now.” Hermione told him, “However they always could come back, we need to be on high alert.” 

Harry nodded, acutely aware of the impending danger the Death Eaters could bring to Hogwarts. He would not let them return. He had to make sure it never happened again. 

“Well that’s good. How did the battle end? I just remember being hit with a curse and then it all goes black.” Harry interrogated further.

“Yeah, uh…” Ron stuttered, “Um, well, Bellatrix Lestrange kinda hit you with a spell and I guess it knocked you out. I tried to go and rescue you but I was too busy fighting off Rudolphus…”

“Hence why you’re so injured.” Hermione explained. 

It made sense to Harry, Bellatrix was not mentally stable, the fact that he was alive after having been alone and unconscious with her was a miracle. 

“Shortly after that though, the Death Eaters retreated and some medics rescued you. And now you’re here.” Ron finished, furrowing his eyebrows. 

Just as Harry was about to nod back his understanding, Madam Pomfrey walked back into sight, a sludge black potion in her hand. 

“Here you go, Potter,” she handed him the vial, “Not very appealing, I know, but it gets the job done.” 

Harry didn’t hesitate, he let go of Hermione’s hand and took the vial, the smooth glass cool against his skin. He downed it in one gulp, stopping only to cringe at the bitter taste when it was all gone. The potion worked almost instantly, the fog in his brain started to clear, and the pain was ebbing away, flowing like a river to the sea. 

“Now that your pain has been dealt with, there is another matter I must attend to.” She told him, a grim line forming on her forehead. She took a deep breath and eyed Harry with a harsh confidence. “I need to change your bandaging.” 

Harry heard a sharp intake of breath to his right where Hermione was, and he saw Ron out of the corner of his eye take a few steps back. 

“Um… ok?” Harry responded, utterly bewildered by the strangeness of the situation. Harry looked over at Hermione, her jaw was set and her eyes were grave. The swarm in Harry’s stomach started up again.

Madam Pomfrey blinked slowly at his reaction, then suddenly turned to face Ron. 

“You didn’t tell him?” She accused, her words tinted red with anger, “That’s why I let you children in here in the first place. I thought it would be better if he heard it from friends.” 

“I- uh- we- umm…” Ron flustered. 

“We didn't know how to tell him!” Hermione's voice was frantic and shrill coming to her friend’s defense. 

Madam Pomfrey sighed rubbing her long fingers over her tired eyes.  
“Very well,” she said, exasperated, “I guess it cannot be helped.”

She reached down and picked up Harry’s left arm, the one tightly bandaged. Harry felt a diminished twinge of pain from the limb, the potion obviously taking effect. 

Madam Pomfrey faced him, getting right to the point. 

“We do not know why- maybe to get revenge, maybe to humiliate you, or maybe just because she is cruel and sick and twisted, but when you were at the mercy of Bellatrix Lestrange last night, she branded you with the Dark Mark.” She looked Harry dead in the eye. 

Harry felt the world stop. 

The...

The Dark Mark?

The butterflies in his stomach disappeared.

The light in the room seemed to dim.

The breath in his chest left.

His own heart stopped pounding. 

He watched, paralyzed and dumbfounded as Madam Pomfrey pulled back the gauze on his arm. 

There it was. Clear as day. Dark ink painted across the underside of his left forearm. Sinister snake and skull scowling at him. Laughing at him. Jeering at him. Harry stared at his arm, stared at the betrayal of his own body. He stared where pure evil marked itself upon his skin claiming him as its own. 

And that’s when everything went black.


End file.
